Free The Lord of Vik-Lo: A Novel of Viking Age Ireland (The Norsemen Saga Book 3) by James L. Nelson

from the bodies of those who wore it. Getting chain mail off a living man was tricky enough; pulling it from a stiff and bloated corpse was a true challenge, made worse by fear that the dead would object to such an outrage and return with vengeance in mind. But finally those would no longer need protection in the earthly realm were stripped of it, and a pile of serviceable chain mail shirts lay heaped on the shore. The ship’s sail, too, and its oars, Grimarr decided, were better off remaining in the land of the living.
      Of the sixty or so dead men laid out on Sea Rider ’s deck only Fasti Magnisson was of such status as to warrant a thrall to accompany him to the next world. That was fortunate, because thralls, like mail, were scarce in Vík-ló. They were a luxury few in the squalid longphort could afford. Most prisoners who were taken on raids were quickly sold.
      Fasti had a thrall, however, who served in his household, which, along with Grimarr’s, was the most substantial in Vík-ló. Grimarr had half a mind to add her to his own household, but he realized that would never do, that his oldest friend could not be sent off to the next world with never a servant to aid him. So the thrall, whose name was Mor, was informed of the journey on which she would be going and given food and as much mead as she wished. When she was nearly incoherent with drink, the top of her head was cut off with one clean stroke of a sword so that she might join her master in the place to which he was bound. Her body was carried aboard Sea Rider and laid at Fasti’s side and then all was in readiness.
      Once again Eagle’s Wing took Sea Rider in tow, pulling her through the choppy water where the river current met the incoming sea. They towed her just beyond the mouth of the River Leitrim and anchored her where her remains would not be in the way of ships coming in or out. Following in solemn procession were the other ships at Vík-ló; Bersi’s Water Stallion , Hilder’s ship, Fox , and the ship Wind Dragon owned by a man named Thormod.
      Tar and turpentine was poured out on Sea Rider ’s decks. A flaming torch was tossed aboard and the hands at Eagle’s Wing ’s oars pulled the ship to a safe distance, where the other ships sat rolling and pitching in the swell. Eagle’s Wing ’s crew pulled the long oars in board and let the ship drift with the others as the flames consumed Sea Rider and the men with whom they’d fought. Grimarr watched as the fire reached up around the base of the mast, climbing up and spreading out fore and aft. In the heavy overcast the flames were brilliant, red and yellow and white. They rose up high above the ship’s rails until Sea Rider looked like some great floating dish overloaded with flames, a bowl of fire.
      It was, undeniably, a beautiful sight, a fitting start to the final voyage of Fasti and the others. The only thing that marred the loveliness of the scene was the fact that Sea Rider was missing the fine, carved figurehead that graced the ship’s stem, a round swirl of carved oak Grimarr was accustomed to seeing arched high above the ship’s deck. It had not been in place when they had driven Lorcan and his men from the ship, and Grimarr had assumed Fasti had ordered it removed as they approached the shore. But the search that had failed to produce the treasure failed to produce the figurehead as well. Its absence made the ship look stubby and out of balance.
      The smell of burning wood and tar and then burning flesh came vaguely to the men aboard Eagle’s Wing, even though they were well to windward of the pyre. The crackling and popping of the ship and her crew as they were consumed, the dull roar of the inferno, were pronounced over the soft breeze from the east.
      As he watched the flames engulf the longship, Grimarr in Eagle’s Wing ’s stern felt numb, numb all over, like he had been standing for some time outside on a frigid day, like he had just woken up and was still